


The Right Moment

by FeralScribe



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: But yeah he does die a little, Caleb gets whapped upside the head by the Luxon, Caleb is only dead for like half a minute, Don’t copy to another site, Everyone Knows Before They Do, First Kiss, Fluff, Kindness, Love Confessions, M/M, Massage, Other, Pampering, Post-Rez Pampering, Then fluff happens so yay!, Whump, the wait is finally over, widomauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 06:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralScribe/pseuds/FeralScribe
Summary: So many moments have passed Molly and Caleb by, never the right one. At least, none of them seemed like it until shortly after Caleb gets Revivified.(Originally for Molly Lives Fest until time slipped away and now it's just Whump and Fluffy Love Confessions)





	The Right Moment

The right moment didn’t come in the mines outside Alfield when Caleb collapsed in front of Molly for the first time.

The right moment didn’t come in Zadash when Molly was forced to tell the truth about himself — or at least as much of the truth as he was comfortable sharing to answer everyone’s questions.

The right moment didn’t come in the Hupperdook jail when Caleb called Molly magical while draped half-dead against Molly’s shoulder.

The right moment didn’t come after Molly’s resurrection, when everyone was clamoring to hug him and cry over him and tell him how much they had missed him.

The right moment didn’t come when Molly was finally moved into the “Xhorhaus”, taking over what was once the Fun Room.

The right moment certainly didn’t come after any of Caleb’s “tutoring sessions” with Essek Theylss — though Molly often wondered about what things the three of them could get up to together, if the other two were willing.

The right moment came exactly when it was supposed to, as far as Molly was concerned, and that was when Caleb decided it was time. However, that time was shortly after they brought Caleb back from the dead.

Molly had gone into a fury after Caleb went down. He knew Caduceus was there and could probably bring him back, but that didn’t stop Molly from charging at the Abyssal bastard who had drained away the last of Caleb’s life force with a wave of its hand, blood pumping in his ears so hard he couldn’t hear his own agonized battle cry. The shadows of the cavern they were in carried him like wings to his target. His scimitars carved deep into the fiend’s chest. It didn’t stop the ache in his own. Even when Caleb’s killer was reduced to sludge, Molly’s heart remained a ball of thorns struggling to move in a chasm of ice until Caduceus’s Revivify took effect and Caleb drew breath again.

“Owww,” Caleb groans with that first lungful of air.

“ _Caleb!_ ” Nott exclaims, her voice breaking as despair turns to relief. She stoops and hugs him, causing him to yelp through gritted teeth. “Oh, sorry.” Nott pats him on the head instead. “Are you okay?”

Caleb nods. “Well I am…better.” He doubles over, clutching the spot on his abdomen where an imp had torn into him before he used one of his fancy new Dunamancy spells to crush it into the floor. Jester puts her hand on the wound. It glows faintly for a moment and the twisted expression of pain melts from Caleb’s face. He collapses into her arms, still conscious, still breathing, but still damaged as well.

Molly offers to carry Caleb on his back on their way out. However, Caleb is practically dead weight and Molly has injuries of his own that prevent him from walking faster than a shuffling limp as he tries to grip Caleb’s legs and keep him from falling. Jester and Caduceus each take one side of Caleb — Jester holding Caleb’s legs over her shoulders and Caduceus hooking his elbows under Caleb’s armpits — and they manage to get him out into the late afternoon sunshine and back onto his moorbounder. Nott scurries around the trio, a frantic mess. Molly knows she’s projecting her worries about her own son on him. Little Luc is practically half a world away, but Caleb is within perfect fussing-over range.

They go somewhere that at least has grass so they can make camp. Beau helps Caleb stay up while he casts his dome for them to stay under. After that, he passes out on his bedroll. By this point, Molly’s patience has long worn thin. His capacity for patience had grown drastically since meeting Caleb. He had known from the first day they met that, despite his general dislike for humans, he would make an exception for this one if Caleb ever showed interest. But not only did Caleb never show interest, it was also abundantly clear that he was in no place mentally or emotionally to acknowledge or accept any interest from Molly. Yet. Deep down, in the place that tickled him whenever he read cards, Molly knew that someday the right moment would come. He just had to be patient.

Now he was impatient for a different reason. He wanted to lavish poor Caleb with some kindness and care but there were always too many people around him, and in his condition it was best if he wasn’t swarmed with attention. With Caleb resting and the others tending to the moorbounders or helping get dinner going, Molly has his chance.

When Caleb awakes half an hour later, he’s devoid of his bloodied and torn coat, but he’s tucked into his bedroll with his head on something soft and silky. Rolling over with some difficulty, he finds a familiar bundle of fabric. Molly notes his return to consciousness and puts down his sewing.

“Well hello, Mister Caleb,” he says, beaming. “Welcome back.”

“Mister Mollymauk.” Caleb grunts as he pushes himself up to a seated position. Molly puts a hand on his back to keep him steady. “Why was I sleeping on your coat?”

Molly smooths a wrinkle on Caleb’s makeshift pillow. “You hit your head pretty hard when you, um, fell over and died. Thought you could do with some extra cushioning.”

Caleb rubs the spot above his right ear where Molly knows there’s probably still a lump. “I see. And, erm, what are you doing with _my_ coat?”

“Just fixing it up.” Molly holds his progress out for Caleb to inspect. “Those little fuckers tore it pretty badly in some places, so I figured I’d do what I could to stitch it back together.”

“You know, Jester could mend it like _that_ ,” Caleb says with a snap. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble.”

Molly shrugs. “No trouble. I needed something to keep me occupied and your coat needed to be fixed.”

Caleb stares at the coat for a moment, though his eyes are a hair out of focus. Molly worries about what must be going on inside his head. “Thank you,” Caleb mutters. “You are… You are something else, Mollymauk.”

“So I’ve been told, yes.” Molly grins and waves his tail, hoping to catch Caleb’s attention. He doesn’t even blink. He’s still vaguely staring. “Well, um, how are you feeling? I know a thing or two about coming back from the dead and I know what a headache it can be. Did you at least see anything nice while you were, uh, under?”

“Hm?” That does it. Caleb blinks back to focus, but when he looks up at Molly his blue eyes don’t quite meet Molly’s own. “Did I what?”

“See anything? Or do you not remember? Like I said, I don’t really remember my time being dead.” It’s a lie. Molly remembers being shown what and who he really is. He also remembers firmly refusing to be that if he ever went back, and so when he did he was only Mollymauk Tealeaf, not…that other person. Not as long as he can help it.

“Oh, er…I…” Caleb narrows his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. His gaze goes unfocused again. “It was…dark, at first. And I…I saw…stars, or— or something, coming towards me. They got bigger and brighter until there was nothing but the light. And that’s when I woke up.”

Molly smiles. “That’s good news.”

“…Is it?”

“Of course.” Molly has enough experience bullshitting together interpretations of omens and fortunes that he can spin this vision into something good, something to put Caleb at ease. “You were in darkness, alone, afraid, I’m guessing?”

Caleb nods.

“Then all these little bits of light came to you. They chased the darkness away. They started off small, but they came together to make everything bright. It means that the sparks of good in your life are only going to get better.”

Caleb ponders this. “I suppose it could mean that, yes.” He rubs the sore spot on his head again. “These days it feels like some of those lights are going out, though.”

Molly’s tail droops. “Does it?”

“Yes,” Caleb murmurs, eyes to the ground. “Think of all we’ve been through, all we’ve lost, and it truly seems we’re out of our depth half of the time.”

“We make it work, though.”

“Somehow.” Caleb looks up, and this time their eyes meet. “And some of the lights in my life _have_ grown brighter. One in particular I thought was snuffed out forever, but it came back.”

A bubbling tingle in Molly’s chest fills him and pushes up the corners of his mouth. “That’s good.”

Caleb licks his lips. “Yes, and— and Mollymauk, I wanted to thank you. You’ve always been so kind to me. Even when you were being a bit of a, er, _prick_ , I suppose is the polite way to put it, you…you were always quick to lend a hand and…just…be a good person. So, thank you.”

Molly smiles wider. “I do what I can.”

“You do more than that. You don’t just do what you _can_ , you do what you _want_ , and while sometimes that means doing things for yourself, it also means giving more than you can spare, including your _life_ , Molly.” Caleb shifts into a more comfortable seated position, his body tilted to face Molly, though now he can’t seem to look at him straight on anymore. “I died just now because, despite everything, I’m still a weak man. I wish I could be as strong and bold as you, but…but I—”

“You’re strong in your own ways,” Molly assures. “You went through your own hell and back, and sure you’re a little roughed up on the inside, but you’re determined, and clever, and you give more than you can spare sometimes, too.” He badly wants to tell Caleb that that’s what he loves about him. He has waited this long for the right moment, and he’s not sure if this is it. If it isn’t, he can wait a little longer.

Caleb fiddles his thumbs. “It’s the least I can do.”

Molly barks out a laugh. “Giving more than you can spare is the _least_ you can do? Gods, I’m interested to see what would happen if you stopped giving a shit.”

“You know what I mean. Everyone in our group is…far more…well, _capable_ than I am, in so many ways. I can do my magic, but that’s about it. I’m not good. Not like you.”

Molly takes a chance and reaches out to hold Caleb’s hand. The bubbling in his chest turns to fluttering butterflies when Caleb squeezes him back. “The way I see it,” Molly says, “is when you put in the effort to be not a bad person, that makes you a good person. Or at least an honorary good person. And if _you’re_ not a good person, Mister Caleb, then you’re as close to being one as I think anyone could be.”

Caleb chuckles under his breath. His cheeks are pink in the dim light of the dome. “As I said, you are very kind to me.”

“It’s what you deserve, darling.”

There’s a breath of silence, then Caleb withdraws his hand. He stretches his back. “I think I should lie down some more…”

The fluttering subsides, but Molly can feel the butterflies settled against the inside of his ribs. “Anything I can do for you? Do you need water or food or…or a massage maybe?”

“A massage?”

Molly shrugs. “I dunno, just want to help, and that’s something I used to do for my carnival family. But if what you really want is to lie down and get some rest, then by all means, please, do whatever you think will help you recover faster.”

Caleb picks at a loose thread in his bedroll. “A massage might help, actually.” He rotates one shoulder. “I don’t know if this was from the fight or something else, but I’ve got a knot right… _ngh_ , there. I think rolling onto it is what woke me up.”

Molly smiles. “I’ll see what I can do about it.”

While generally Molly prefers to do massages with the recipient lying down, that also generally involves straddling the person so he can place his hands symmetrically on their back. He brings this up to Caleb, thinking perhaps Caleb would ask to get one while seated instead to avoid any awkward contact. He merely shrugs and continues rearranging himself back down onto his bedroll. “If that is how you are most comfortable doing it, then _ja_ , sure.”

“…But would _you_ be comfortable with it?”

Caleb yawns. “Molly, I might keel over again in the middle of it. I’d rather already be flat on my face if that happens.”

Molly can do this. He can give Caleb a simple massage without making it weird. The poor man died today. Surely this isn’t the moment Molly has been waiting for. Those feelings have to stay on their shelf and he must be all business. It’s the same as when he worked out Ornna’s sprained muscles when she tried out new dance routines and pushed herself too hard, or the knots in Bo’s back after a night of chucking rowdy patrons out of the tent, or Yasha when they were just hanging around bored and were both sore from sleeping on a rough patch of ground.

Caleb lies on his bedroll with his arms out the way Molly instructed. Molly positions himself farther down than he usually would, over Caleb’s thighs rather than his hips. He has to really flex his core and steady himself with his tail to lean forward and reach Caleb’s shoulders without losing his balance, but it works. The knot Caleb pointed out is one of many Molly feels during an initial once-over of Caleb’s back; it’s pretty nasty though. Caleb grunts with a soft squeal when Molly gently presses it with his thumb to gauge how tender it is. This might have happened when Molly tried to pick him up, or when Caduceus was carrying him, or maybe he flung his arm out too vigorously when casting a spell. However it got like this, if it’s interrupting Caleb’s rest then it has to go.

Occasionally Molly can hear voices from outside the dome, but the walls are opaque enough that all he can see are shadows of shapes. Dinner is almost ready and it seems Jester’s moorbounder ran off after a meal of its own and some of them had to go chase it. Fjord grumbles something that Jester responds defensively towards. Then Beau makes a remark Molly can’t quite make out either and several people admonish her. Molly chuckles. Ah, the sounds of friendship. He missed this. Being dead was peaceful and all, and it wasn’t as though there weren’t others in that space, but it wasn’t the same as being alive. The dead are far too placid.

The massage goes fairly well. It’s odd working through Caleb’s shirt, but Molly doesn’t need full skin contact to work his thumbs into the knots and carefully untangle them. Caleb makes very few noises, only a few sighs or hisses when Molly hits something good or something dreadfully sensitive. Over time, Molly manages to smooth out the muscles of Caleb’s back. He’s a bit sore and tired himself from having to lean at an awkward angle, but it’s for the best. Yasha can rub his shoulders for him later.

Molly’s momentum is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Beau popping through the wall of the dome. She takes one look at Molly’s position on top of Caleb, hears one of Caleb’s groaned “ _Ooof_ ”s when Molly presses down hard in alarm, and smirks. “About time, you two.”

Caleb freezes under Molly, completely undoing all the work Molly just did to get him relaxed as his body locks up like he lost a staring contest to a basilisk. Molly shoots Beau a sour glare. She should have some respect for the recently deceased, regardless of whether they’re alive again or not.

Beau snorts with a jerk of her head. “But, y’know, if you can pry yourselves away from each other, dinner’s ready.”

“Thank you,” Molly replies, coating every pleasant word with enunciated venom. “Tell the others we’ll be along in a moment. Caleb is _still recovering from his resurrection_ and needs to take things at his own pace.” He smiles at her, but it’s the smile he uses to frighten would-be bandits and dishonest shopkeepers, the one that shows off his fangs and is just rigid enough and just _off_ enough to unsettle most people.

Unfortunately, Beau is not most people. She rolls her eyes at him. “Okay. No guarantees there will be anything left for you if you take too long though.” With that, she slips back out through the wall.

Molly growls under his breath. His tail clenches and coils in agitation. He rubs one hand soothingly on Caleb’s back. “Don’t mind her,” Molly says. “She’s talkin’ shit, as usual. Trying to get a rise out of either of us, or both. She knows we’re not… _a thing_.”

Caleb has barely even breathed since Beau announced herself. He’s essentially a rather alarmed-looking statue. The only thing that sets him apart from stone is the faint yet rapid heartbeat Molly can feel in Caleb’s ribs.

“…Darling, are you okay?”

“Erm,” Caleb squeaks. “ _Ja_.”

Molly doesn’t know whether touching Caleb is making this better or worse. He wasn’t finished the massage yet either way. It’s not good to stop cold in the middle of one. Caleb was willing to hold his hand earlier, however briefly, so Molly takes another gamble and continues, though more gently and only to wrap up what he had already done. “I’d apologize for her, but that’s not my job,” Molly sighs. “Nor would I like it to be. You’d think she’d have learned some _manners_ by now, but _yeesh_.”

“Beauregard is, um—” Caleb clears his throat. “She is quite good at making assumptions. But she, ah, sometimes jumps to the wrong conclusions and… Um…”

“Yes, well, she didn’t think I was trustworthy when we first met, and she was _right_ about that, but for the _wrong reasons_. Did I think about robbing you all blind and running off in the night? Yes, absolutely, but that’s because it was how I had survived up until that point. You think we made _that_ much money in the circus? With all those mouths to feed and all the equipment we needed to maintain? Good gods, I earned more hanging out with you lot for a week than the whole carnival made in six months of performances. I would have been an idiot to ruin a good thing while I had it. Not to mention half of you were worse off than I was and it wouldn't have been fair. My point is that _yes_ , _fine_ , I’m no paladin of virtue, and I still prefer to bullshit rather than talk straight sometimes, but she didn’t like me because _I read fortunes_ and _sometimes_ I’m not so honest about what the cards say. At least when I lie about a reading I’m generally trying to make the other person _happy_ or _hopeful_ or one of those other emotions Beau seems to ignore in favor of…I dunno, spite? Would you call that spite? I think it’s spite.”

Molly is rambling and he knows it. Rambling means giving Caleb something to listen to other than his own thoughts, or at least other than the memory of Beau’s latest snarky remark. He almost has the last of Caleb’s knots worked out. Soon he can let Caleb go back to sleep or rest here until Nott inevitably brings in twice as much food as Caleb intended to eat while sending Molly out to pick over whatever the others have left for him. It’s probably more of that stuff Caduceus can summon anyway, and given where they are there’s slim chance it’s seasoned with anything beyond what Caduceus carries with him.

Caleb goes silent. Molly notices movement by his right knee. He twists to peer around his own arm and sees that Caleb is tapping his knuckles on the ground in one of his anxious tics. The poor man has so many anxious tics, it’s hard to keep track of them, but tapping is definitely one of them.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Molly asks, kneading his fingertips into the last snarl of muscle at the base of Caleb’s neck.

“ _Ssssngff_ ,” Caleb groans.

“…Well I suppose that counts as a thought.” Molly rubs the flat of his hands in light quick circles down and up Caleb’s back. He has to readjust Caleb's shirt several times after accidentally pushing it around. It might just be the light from the dome, but every time Molly sees his skin juxtaposed to Caleb’s, he marvels at how well the warm tones in Caleb’s skin bring out the cool tones in his own and vice versa. He’s not going to think about seeing what the effect would be if they were completely entangled in each other. He simply is not. “Got any other thoughts, Mister Caleb?”

Further silence and more tapping. Molly is about to say that’s fine, the massage is done anyway, when Caleb clears his throat. “Er um, Beauregard did sssay something that um… Er…” Another little cough. “There was something else, while I was…out.”

“Oh?” Molly fans his hands along Caleb’s back with lighter and lighter touches until he barely brushes the fabric of Caleb’s shirt, then climbs off and sits to the side.

Caleb pushes himself up on his elbows. He arcs his back and twists his neck and blinks his eyes hard. Satisfied with Molly’s work, he settles onto his forearms. “When the light…was all around me, it… I-I suppose it didn’t actually _say_ anything, but it had a message for me.”

Molly leans forward, tail curled attentively. “Was it a private message or is it something you feel comfortable sharing?”

“I…I wasn’t going to share it with everyone, but…” Caleb swallows. “When Beauregard said ‘It’s about time,' talking about the two of us, it reminded me…” He looks at Molly for a fleeting second, then his eyes avert down to his folded hands. “The light told me that the best way to control time is to live in the moment. I can’t change the future unless I know what’s happening right now, and changing the past is pointless if I’m not aware of the choices I’m currently making and the impact they have, because I might try to undo everything but wind up in the same situation by accident. Does that make sense?”

“Pretty sure I’ve been trying to tell you that for months, darling.”

Caleb winces, but not in pain or discomfort. Molly is intrigued. He perks his ears to hear what Caleb has to say next. “The thing is…Mollymauk, I— There are things I was…putting on hold until I had fixed everything else first, _if_ I ever fixed anything, and…” Caleb droops his head with a sigh. “I’m not— I am still just one man, and not a very, er, sturdy one at that. If… _this_ ever happens again, but permanently, I ought to do something _now_ to ensure that my future and the past it creates are…not another mistake that I couldn't fix.”

Molly nods. He chuckles softly. “No wonder you had so much tension in your back and shoulders. Can’t be good for you to carry so much like that.”

A tiny reflexive smile twitches in the corner of Caleb’s lips. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “And so… I… I suppose it is ‘about time,' as Beauregard put it, that I— I tell you— Um…” Caleb lifts his head. There’s a hard line across his forehead. His expression is guarded but his eyes are timid. “Mollymauk, I am aware that you have had feelings for me for a long time, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away — I, er, I guess I was waiting for the right moment, but I didn’t actually know when that was, so…so this one is as good as any, or better, because it’s sooner — but…but I reciprocate those feelings.” He swallows again. “That is, if you haven’t given up on me.”

Like a wound you don’t realize you’ve gotten until you look down and see the blood, the confession doesn’t fully process in Molly’s brain until Caleb’s face flushes profusely and he returns his gaze to anywhere but Molly’s eyes. “Caleb…”

“ _Ja ja_ , I know. We don’t exactly have the leisure time to sit down and figure this out, but at least I won’t go to my grave — um, again? — kicking myself for never admitting that.”

Molly hastily adjusts himself to lie on his stomach with his head less than a foot from Caleb’s. He wiggles until he’s square in Caleb’s field of vision. “Darling, I could _never_ give up on you.”

Caleb’s breath hitches. “ _N-Nein?_ ”

“No.” Molly grins. The butterflies are swarming. They’ve somehow multiplied until there’s no more space for them. Molly resists the urge to laugh as they tickle his insides with their frenzied dance of elation. His shoulders shake in an irrepressible giggle. “I was willing to wait until my next deathbed to tell you because I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I wasn’t,” Caleb admits. “I— I might not be, still, but…but I would like to be. I would like to take whatever steps I have to, if those steps will lead me closer to you.”

Molly nods. Even though certain things are out in the open now, he can’t plunge full-force into this. Caleb needs to adjust. Fortunately, Molly has gotten very good at being patient, as far as Caleb is concerned. “Let’s start small then,” he says.

“ _Klingt gut_.” Caleb smiles, rubbing one arm in yet another of his anxious tics. “H— How small were you thinking?”

“Well, depends on how small you need. You let me hold your hand earlier, that was nice. Or we could hug or…or maybe exchange a little kiss if you’re feeling bold.”

Caleb’s smile broadens. “I think I might be.”

Molly inches forward on his belly until they’re face-to-face. He lets Caleb make the first move. This close he can see the weariness in Caleb’s eyes, but also the hope and the love. Caleb had better kiss him quick before all these butterflies come pouring out of Molly’s mouth.

Right as their lips touch, Nott comes marching into the dome, a plate piled high with food in her hands. She stops and stares for a moment, then huffs out a snort of approval. “Well it’s _about time!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my Widomauk bullshit. 
> 
> (i.e. I am never off my Widomauk bullshit)


End file.
